


Family Money

by obbel



Category: Latin American Celebrities RPF, Reggaetón Music RPF
Genre: AU, Child Neglect, F/F, Financial Sexual Coercion, Friends to Co-conspirators to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Reggaetón RPF - Freeform, Strippers & Strip Clubs, be gay do crimes, hustlers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obbel/pseuds/obbel
Summary: Single moms with questionable morals fall for each other.HustlersAU.
Relationships: Anitta/Cazzu, Bad Bunny/Cazzu (mentioned)
Kudos: 3





	Family Money

**Author's Note:**

> "Págame, págame, págame  
> Que este culo se lo merece."
> 
> — Cazzu, "Loca (Remix)"

“Tell me about Anitta.”

—

_“What’s your name, baby? C’mere.”_

_“Cazzu.”_

_There’s an ugly laugh, a sneer._

_“So you like to blow?”_

_Cazzu looks at him, uncertain. He mimics playing the kazoo, face screwed up as his fingers twiddle in the air, and he makes an obnoxious, honking, wheezing sound. It’s absurd. Cazzu fights back the grimace, forces herself to smile. “I’ll blow your mind, honey.”_

_He scoffs. “Fuck that.”_

_She takes her leave as gracefully as she can manage in heels, trying not to clutch her purse too tightly. Or fall over. She sucks her stomach in as she walks, telling herself that it’s for balance._

_She takes a lap around the club, watching all the other dancers laugh and flirt, watching them drape themselves over customers, straddle them, whisper in their ears, and, most importantly, watching the cash that gets stuffed into their underwear, the credit cards handed over carelessly, unthinkingly._

_The announcement catches her attention. Cazzu turns to look at DJ Sky. She’s yelling over the mic that it’s time for a very special performance. The one, the only._

_Cazzu turns back to the stage to watch, to stare, more accurately, to gawk. She’s not the only one._

_Anitta comes out to raucous applause, walks around the stage like a peacock fanning its tail out, calling all the attention to herself. She smiles, wide, arms stretched out, wide, and even in the darkness of the club, she gives the sun competition for who can shine the brightest. The spotlight seems like an afterthought, a needless formality._

_She laughs; she plays with her hair. And then she bends over, and it’s like the whole place loses its collective mind. There’s an explosion of dollar bills, or maybe they’re not singles. The stage is covered, and she hasn’t even gotten on the pole yet._

_It doesn’t take long, though. Anitta swings around, legs kicked out impossibly straight. Cazzu can see the lines of her thighs straining, the definition in her arms as she pulls herself up, works her way through a series of gravity-defying poses, each more complicated, more exciting than the last._

_Anitta is upside down, reaching for the ground with her hands. She leaves one leg up in the air, swings the other through her arms, and lands in a split. She bounces up and down, legs still stretched in opposite directions, and she’s covered in more cash. She grins._

_She stands up, walks over to a man on the edge of the stage. She turns her back towards him and drops down to her hands and knees, backing up while she shakes her ass in his face. He stuffs dollar after dollar in her waistband until she moves on, prancing over to her right. She leans down and grabs another customer, presses his nose into her chest and shimmies. Cazzu watches him high five his friends after Anitta leaves._

_Anitta drops to the floor again, slowly, dramatically. She swoops low, bending at the waist with her back arched as if she was diving into the ground. At the last minute, she falls gracefully into a somersault, landing on her back with her legs outstretched in a V. She does another split in the air before snapping her legs together. She kicks them playfully, then rolls over, grabbing the money that covers the stage and rubbing it all over herself. She arches her back, running her cash-filled hands over her chest and her stomach, over her hips and down her thighs. The room is so loud. Everyone yells, screams, throws more bills. Cazzu would throw her own, if she had any._

_Anitta stands up, finished with her set, and she walks, model-like, stomping her heels and swinging her hips, right past Cazzu on her way out._

_“O dinheiro te excita, ou não?”_

_Cazzu barely remembers how to speak Spanish, let alone Portuguese. She gapes after Anitta, and Anitta blows her a kiss._

_Later, after all the money has been swept off the stage and the lights are turned off, Cazzu goes and finds Anitta up on the roof of the building. It’s freezing, and Cazzu tries her best not to shiver._

_“Hey, baby,” Anitta says when she notices Cazzu. “You cold?”_

_Cazzu nods._

_“Where’s your jacket?”_

_Cazzu is struck by how maternal Anitta sounds. “I left it inside,” she says sheepishly._

_“Come on, come on,” Anitta says, motioning for Cazzu. She holds open her fur coat, and Cazzu hesitates before settling in between Anitta’s legs. Anitta wraps her up, hugging her close as the mink protects them both from the winter air._

_“You’re amazing,” Cazzu says, and she balks as soon as the words are out of her mouth. How embarrassing._

_But Anitta just laughs. “Obrigada.” Her voice is like sunshine, warming up Cazzu almost as much as the coat. “You like it here? You’re new, right? How long you been here?”_

_“It’s okay,” Cazzu says, blushing._

_Anitta looks down at her. Cazzu twists her neck at an awkward angle to meet her gaze. “Okay?” Anitta asks. “Just okay? Look at you! I know you’re making crazy money.”_

_Cazzu blushes. Anitta sounds like she’s laughing, but Cazzu can’t make eye contact anymore. Anitta knocks her knee gently against Cazzu’s shoulder, and Cazzu lets her body sway with the momentum. Then she stops herself and sighs._

_“It’s not… that great,” she admits. “I don’t know.”_

_“What?” Anitta says loudly. “You’ve got this whole rockera look, come on. Plus look at that face! They must love you!”_

_Cazzu feels herself getting hot. It’s too warm in the fur coat all of a sudden, too small of a space between Anitta’s legs. The onset claustrophobia isn’t entirely due to Anitta’s height, either. Cazzu hasn’t blushed this much since she was in middle school._

_“Yeah,” she mumbles. “I don’t know. Maybe you could help me?”_

_Cazzu shifts her position, forcing herself to make eye contact. Anitta stares down at her. “What did you have in mind?”_

_“You could show me the pole work,” Cazzu says, trying to sound like she knows what she’s talking about. “How you did all that stuff tonight.” She gives up the act as soon as Anitta’s eyebrow quirks upwards._

_There’s a smile starting to form at the corners of Anitta’s mouth, though, and a glint in her eye. “Okay,” she says. “Maybe we can work together. I think the clients would like that.”_

—

“She took care of me,” Cazzu says. “At first, you know, I didn’t have no one. But she made me feel like I belonged.”

Joy nods as she takes notes. Cazzu listens to the light scratch of the pen against the paper.

—

_“Front hook.”_

_Anitta is standing up, her leg out at a ninety-degree angle, bent at the knee. She braces her ankle against the pole._

_“Ankle hook.”_

_She moves it to the back._

_“Knee hook.”_

_She hooks her leg around the pole and then jumps on it, swinging around once before coming to a stop in front of Cazzu. “You’re not looking,” Anitta says. “Look. Watch.”_

_She swings herself around again, without her legs this time, and this time Cazzu can’t stop looking. Cazzu watches how strong Anitta’s arms are, how she turns effortlessly, switching her grip as she catches the pole with her knee, backwards. The momentum propels her faster, faster. Cazzu watches the way Anitta flies, dancing every second, in control. She never loses her grip, never falls on her ass like Cazzu did the one time she snuck on stage before the club opened, trying to imitate what she’d seen the other dancers do._

_Cazzu watches the lines of her legs, impossibly long for someone barely five feet tall. They spread easily, flung out in opposite directions, and then retract sharply, precisely, creating extravagant shapes. Anitta is molten steel, pouring herself into each position, toes pointed like a ballerina as she stretches herself impossibly taut. She swings around a few more times, then sticks the landing when she dismounts._

_“Now you try,” Anitta says, and Cazzu feels clumsy just getting up from the floor. But she does her best to imitate Anitta, hooking her leg cautiously around the pole. She rides it around in a circle, just trying to keep herself from falling off._

_“Good,” Anitta says. “Good. Now try with your legs over your head. They fucking love that.”_

_Cazzu laughs. “I’m not doing that. I’ll fall!”_

_Anitta shakes her head. “I won’t let you fall.”_

_She steps closer, placing a hand on Cazzu’s back and lifting gently. Cazzu puts one leg and then the other over her head, feeling ridiculous. Her ass is sticking out in the air, and the awful pretzel position is making her stomach bunch up. She glances at Anitta upside down, and Anitta smiles at her._

_“Good,” Anitta says. “Straighten your legs.”_

_Cazzu tries, but she’s not flexible enough. Her hamstrings strain. She tries to move her hands farther away from her torso, to give herself more space, but being upside down disorients her, and she can’t figure out how to move them. And Anitta’s unwavering attention makes her palms sweaty. When she tries to shift, her grip slips, and then the ground comes rushing at her._

_Anitta breaks her fall. She steps in to catch Cazzu around the waist, and Cazzu lands softly on top of her instead of on her own face. Cazzu looks down at Anitta under her._

_“Sorry,” she says quickly, scrambling to get off of Anitta._

_Anitta stops her with a hand around her arm. “It’s okay,” she says, and she just smiles at her. Cazzu smiles back, unable to move or breathe or think of what to do next. But then her thoughts,_ _or lack thereof,_ _are interrupted by a voice calling out, “Ladies, ladies! Take it to the champagne room!”_

 _“Cala a boca,”_ _Anitta yells back. She hasn’t moved at all, and Cazzu turns her head to see who’s talking. It’s Becky, accompanied by several others. “We’re having lessons!”_

_“Fucking lessons?” Cardi asks, grinning. She starts thrusting her hips, making an exaggerated face. She has her hand on an imaginary waist, starts smacking an imaginary ass._

_“Is that how you fuck, Bardi?” Nicki asks her, a skeptical look on her face. “No wonder Offset didn’t stick around.”_

_“Bitch!”_

_They go back and forth about who is better in bed. The rest ignore them, having heard this argument and each party’s major talking points many times before. Becky sits down in the front row, and Natti and Karol flank either side._

_Anitta rolls off of Cazzu, grabbing her hand and helping her up. “Come on!” she yells to the other dancers. “Come help me teach the new girl how to make it clap!”_

_They scramble onto the stage, Nicki first. She wastes no time in bending over in front of Cazzu._

_“Look, new girl,” she says. “You gotta like, uh, uh, uh.” She makes a noise between a grunt and a moan as her ass cheeks smack together. Cazzu watches, trying to figure out exactly how she does that._

_“She ain’t gon’ understand that!” Cardi says, shoving Nicki out of the way. “Start with your hips, okay? You what, Argentina?”_

_Cazzu nods._

_“So you got some flavor! Just shake it like you know how.”_

_Cazzu does what she practiced in the mirror of her childhood bedroom, in sweaty discotecas that she and her friends snuck into through the service entrance when they weren’t old enough to go through the front door. Surrounded by her coworkers, shaking, shimmying, giggling, it almost feels the same._

―

“It was all legal then,” Cazzu adds quickly. She isn’t sure why it’s so important, but it is. Joy needs to know this. “She just showed me how to make money. ‘Cuz I needed it, you know? For me and my grandma. She was sick.”

Joy nods, not looking at Cazzu. She makes another note, and Cazzu fights the anxious urge to see what it is. Joy is too far away, sitting across from Cazzu in her armchair, a whole coffee table in between them. Cazzu shifts uncomfortably, pulling her leg onto the sofa and tucking it under herself.

“She was a good friend.”

“Just a friend?”

―

_“How are you so good at this?” Cazzu asks, slowing herself to a stop. She’s lost track of how many lessons Anitta has given her by now. Enough that she can do a whole routine on the pole without falling, Cazzu thinks as she dismounts. But it’s not enough. Even with the extra cash she’s making on the side stage, by the time she tips out the DJ, the bouncers, the manager, the servers, the bartender, it’s only enough to cover the bills._

_Anitta shrugs. “I guess I’m just a people person.”_

_“No,” Cazzu says. “It’s more than that. I’ve seen you with every kind of guy that comes in here! How do you get them to want you? How do you get them to pay for you?”_

_Anitta tilts her head, considering. “You have to figure out what they want you to be.”_

_“How?”_

_“Mmm,” Anitta hums. “Experience.”_

_“Experience!” Cazzu sighs dramatically, letting herself collapse onto the floor. “And how am I supposed to get that? I can’t fast forward time.”_

_“You don’t need to.” Anitta sits down beside Cazzu, legs crossed, looking at her. “You have me.”_

_Cazzu turns to look back at Anitta._

_“Let me break it down for you, baby. I’ll be your time machine.” She’s holding her hand out, counting off as she speaks._

_Cazzu listens as Anitta describes the men of Wall Street that come to the club. They fall into three tiers: the bottom feeders, the middle managers, and the top of the top._

_The bottom feeders don’t get their hands dirty. They don’t usually have a lot of money, but when they do have, they’re quick to part with. Maybe their wives don’t want them anymore, maybe they’re single and feeling lonely._

_“Whatever it is,” Anitta says, “Make sure to string them along for all they’ve got. I got this guy paying for my apartment. I think I’ve kissed him twice.”_

_The middle managers do a little dirty work. They’re problem solvers, smoothers over. They’ll fudge the numbers, hide the bodies, but there’s always a line in the sand that they won’t cross. Anitta shrugs._

_“Then there’s the motherfuckers on the top,” she says, and there’s an edge to her voice that makes Cazzu sit up, propping herself up on her elbows. Anitta looks her in the eyes as she continues, “CFOs, CEOs, whatever letters you want to give them. You know that door in the hallway behind the bathroom?”_

_Cazzu nods._

_“That’s the private entrance. No cameras, no security. Baby, these guys are bad. They’ll fuck you up. Degrade you, hurt you. But they spend fifteen thousand dollars a night, so we keep going back.” Anitta leans in closer, dropping her voice. “Here’s the secret. Forget your feelings. It’s all business. They pay for what they want, and we give it to them. It’s the most honest money they spend all day.”_

_Cazzu digests this information, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of trying to service that kind of customer, but the morbidity intrigues her nonetheless. She remembers spending hours looking up serial killers on the family computer, reading all the grisly details of their crimes despite the revulsion that brewed in her stomach. She feels something similar now, but she pushes the thought away, looking at Anitta instead._

_“So what would you do if I came into the club?” she asks._

_Anitta looks at her sharply, and Cazzu almost thinks she won’t respond. It’s an absurd question, after all, just something to put into the air to cover the stench of reality. A Febreeze fantasy._

_But Anitta climbs on top of her, so quickly and gracefully it’s almost feline, predatory. She pushes Cazzu back down flat, and Cazzu blinks up at her, startled. Anitta smiles at her before dropping down, low._

_“Se você fosse minha...”_ _Anitta pauses, crawling slowly up her body, face trailing close to her skin. Cazzu can feel Anitta’s breath near her ribs, and she tries not to shiver as Anitta keeps talking, “...cliente...”_ _Anitta kisses up Cazzu’s chest, in between her breasts and up the side of her neck. She stops near her face, leaning in to whisper in Cazzu’s ear in fast, heavily-accented Portuguese. Cazzu catches “eu faria” and then “você,”_ _but the rest is a blur._

_Cazzu whines, quietly, arching her back as Anitta sucks on her earlobe, licks her way back down Cazzu’s neck. The air is cold when she pulls away, and Cazzu whines louder. She grabs Anitta’s arm, pulling her back. Cazzu puts a hand on Anitta’s waist, and Anitta looks down at her, smiling curiously._

_“Figure out what they want you to be, baby,” she says, and she rolls off Cazzu, leaving her lying on her back under the bright lights of the stage._

―

_They’re in the locker room, waiting for the club to open. Anitta sits in front of the vanity attaching her lashes with Cazzu behind her, pretending to fix her own make-up. Suddenly the door flies open, and in walks an older woman, holding a cake._

_“Mamacitas!” she calls, deep voice cutting through all the chatter of the locker room. “Look what I have for you.” She brings the cake to Anitta first, holding it out expectantly._

_“La reina del club y la reina de la cocina.” Anitta smiles but shakes her head. “You know better.”_

_She ignores Anitta and offers the cake again, more forcefully this time. “I made it. You eat it.”_

_Anitta accepts a small piece, and the woman turns her attention to Cazzu._

_“This is Ivy. She’s the queen around here,” Anitta says, pointing with her fork. “This is Cazzu. She’s new.”_

_Ivy gives Cazzu a once over. “Welcome, welcome,” she says, hugging Cazzu with her free arm. “Eat some cake!”_

_Cazzu politely accepts._

_“Take care of her for me. She’s a good one,” Anitta says, and Ivy smiles at her. Then Anitta announces to the room, “Mamãe made us cake. Everyone eat up!”_

_Ivy winks at Cazzu before leaving._

_“I thought you were the queen around here,” Cazzu says to Anitta when she turns around._

_Anitta rolls her eyes. “This is different. She’s the, what do you call it?” Anitta pauses, eyes darting up to the ceiling as she thinks. “The house mom. She looks out for us.”_

_Cazzu hums, and Anitta resumes glueing her eyelashes on._

_About halfway through the shift, Ivy intercepts Cazzu just as she’s leaving one of the lap dance rooms._

_“Ven,” she says. “Te quieren pa’ la fiesta privada.”_

_“Quién?”_

_“They are some, I don’t know, group. No pusieron nombre propio, sólo ‘The Academy,’” Ivy says, waving her hands dismissively. “Maybe is really a school, maybe not, who cares, mija?” She brings Cazzu to one of the larger rooms in the back and motions for her to go inside. There’s no window on the door, and Cazzu hesitates, glancing at Ivy._

_“Tranquila,” Ivy says. “Vaya.” She rubs her thumb and forefingers together, winking._

_Cazzu steels herself. She’s never been invited to these rooms before. She fixes her hair quickly before pushing the door open._

_Cazzu was half-expecting the occupants of the room to turn and look at her, just like her classmates did when she arrived late to school. Instead, Cazzu finds a party just starting to get good. She spots Anitta, mostly naked, standing in front of a short man who still has his sunglasses on, despite the fact that they’re inside, and it’s midnight. His hair is gelled back, and his ears stick out. Anitta pushes his shirt up to reveal an impressive set of abs. Next to her is Natti, topless, curled around a man with neatly shaped eyebrows._

_Karol, Becky, and a few more dancers Cazzu doesn’t know very well are entertaining the other four. Cazzu makes her way over, and she catches the eye of one of the customers sitting on a sofa. His curly hair is dyed blonde. When he smiles at her, she notices a gap between his teeth. It’s endearing, she thinks._

_“Hey,” he says, and his voice is quiet, almost shy. But he reaches out quickly to take her hand and pulls her to him._

_“Hey yourself,” she says._

_“Why do you have so many clothes on?” he asks._

_Cazzu puts on a shocked face. She takes her hand back and grabs her breasts over her clothes, feeling around as if she’d lost something. She moves her hands down to the pockets of her dress and makes a show of turning them inside out, pulling the fabric higher up her thighs as she does._

_“Because no one’s paid me yet,” she says, winking at the customer._

_“Let’s fix that, then.”_

_The customer pulls out a bill and sets it next to him on the sofa. Cazzu pulls her dress up a little higher. The customer puts another bill on the sofa. Cazzu pulls it up to her waist, showing off the underwear she has on. She waits until the customer adds an acceptable number of bills to the pile until she pulls the whole thing over her head and starts playing with her bra strap. The customer’s mouth hangs open slightly. Cazzu focuses on the gap in his teeth. They keep at this game until Cazzu is naked except for her underwear, back to the customer, grinding into his lap._

_Cazzu arches her back, hands braced on her knees for leverage and also because she remembers Anitta making fun of her for how much she moved her hands. “Oh my God,” Anitta had said, shaking her head. “You’re like Gianluca, remember the crazy Italian I told you about? He’ll take his hands off me just to talk with them. You’ll meet him. You’ll probably like him, Cazzuchelli.” Anitta spoke in a caricature of an Italian accent, drawing out the syllables of Cazzu’s last name, and Cazzu had thrown a spare bra at her in response. But Cazzu did like him when they met. And she really liked the tip he gave her._

_This customer is almost as generous. Cazzu finishes her dance and sneaks a glance at the pile of money on the sofa. When she turns back, Anitta has appeared, summoned by Cazzu’s memory of her lessons._

_“Hi baby,” she says, pulling Cazzu away from the customer. She leans in close to whisper into Cazzu’s ear. “Don’t give them so much. Dance with me instead.”_

_Anitta turns around, swishing her hips back and forth a couple times, and then she settles in front of Cazzu and drops to the floor before standing up slowly, ass jiggling all the way. She rolls her hips again, backing up into Cazzu. Cazzu places a hand on her lower back, trying not to interrupt her as they dance._

_Cazzu matches Anitta’s pace, trying to be an asset and not a hindrance. She takes her eyes off Anitta’s ass for a moment to glance around the room. The customers all have women in their laps, but most of their eyes are on Cazzu and Anitta._

_Maybe it’s the attention, or maybe it’s the shots her clients bought her, but somehow Cazzu finds herself spinning Anitta back around, dancing closer, and intertwining their legs. Somehow, Cazzu presses her face into Anitta’s neck, kissing up towards her mouth. Cazzu is almost there when Anitta stops her with a hand on her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks. She holds Cazzu’s face still as she kisses her on the mouth, sharp and devastating._

_There’s a couple of cheers from her coworkers, a few primal, approving yells from the clients, but Cazzu blocks it all out. The only thing she hears is the blood rushing in her ears. The only thing she sees is Anitta._

_And then it’s over. Anitta lets her go_ ― _leaves her, Cazzu thinks_ ― _to go back to the clients who welcome her onto the sofa with champagne and dollar bills._

_Cazzu doesn’t remember the rest of the night. She must have held it together okay because she leaves the club with more money than she’s ever made before. But everything is a blur after the kiss. She vaguely registers Natti telling her goodbye as she leaves the locker room, and Ivy making her promise to be careful on her way home. On her way out, Cazzu looks around for Anitta, but she’s not there._

―

_“Come home with me,” Anitta says. It’s just after four in the morning, and they’re done with their shift, changed back into regular clothes. All the money has been collected and allotted, stuffed into secret pockets for safe keeping. Most of the dancers have gone already. Cazzu sticks around only because Anitta is still here._

_“What?”_

_“Yeah, come. I’ll make you breakfast.”_

_Cazzu smiles down at her feet, shoved into the dirty, white tennis shoes she uses for her commute home. She kicks them in the air a couple times, humming before turning her face back to Anitta._

_“Okay,” she says, and she tries not to giggle or blush._

_Anitta drives them to her apartment. She looks especially tiny in the front seat of her Escalade. Cazzu leans over to see if her feet can even reach the pedals._

_Anitta calls her out right away. “You are not that much taller than me.”_

_“But I am taller than you.” Cazzu turns her neck to look up at Anitta, grinning. But then she quickly retreats to the passenger’s side, realizing how close her face was to Anitta’s lap._

_“Maybe,” Anitta says, nonplussed by the invasion of her personal space. “But not in heels.” She winks at Cazzu._

_“Not all of us can dance in six-inch heels,” Cazzu says, crossing her arms and sighing._

_“You’ll get there one day, baby.”_

_Cazzu smiles, more to herself than to Anitta. She doesn’t respond, and a comfortable silence settles over the car until they pull into Anitta’s building._

_“Come on,” she says, leading Cazzu from the parking garage up to her apartment._

_Cazzu’s jaw drops as Anitta opens the door._

_The floor-to-ceiling windows of her apartment show off the best of New York, and Cazzu walks over to them, wordlessly, staring out at the city starting to wake up. She starts to lift a hand, ready to press it against the glass, but she stops herself, remembering her manners._

_“You can touch.”_

_Anitta comes to stand next to her and puts her own hand up to the glass. Cazzu glances at her for a second before mirroring her action, pressing her hand and then her nose to the glass._

_“Bobinha,” Anitta says, rolling her eyes. She grabs Cazzu’s hand, taking her to the kitchen. “I promised you breakfast. Sit.”_

_Cazzu does as she’s told, sitting at the counter bar and watching as Anitta cooks. Anitta fries a couple of eggs, and cuts up fruits, and toasts bread. She makes coffee in a moka pot._

_Cazzu rests her head on her arms, tilting her head to look sideways at Anitta. “This is amazing,” she says._

_Anitta laughs. “I’ll tell Juan Luis you like it,” she says, pausing while slicing up a banana._

_Cazzu raises her eyebrows. Anitta resumes slicing._

_“A client pays for this. His name is Juan Luis. He’s an equestrian.”_

_Cazzu’s eyebrows stay where they are._

_“He likes horses.”_

_“I know what an equestrian is.”_

_“I know you do,” Anitta says, and she slides a plate over the counter to Cazzu._

_Cazzu decides that Anitta probably doesn’t need a response to that, but she grins at Anitta through a mouth full of fruit. Her cheeks balloon out, stuffed full of banana. Anitta smiles back at her and sets her plate next to Cazzu’s. She comes around the counter and sits next to her._

_They eat breakfast together, slowly. For some reason, Cazzu thought Anitta would be the type to shovel all the food in her mouth in a hurry. But Anitta is a deliberate eater. She makes neat slices, chews thoughtfully. More often than not, her fork is resting on her plate as she asks Cazzu questions and listens to the answers._

_They talk about work for a while, swapping stories about their clients: Ramón, the CEO of some mystery company Anitta is convinced is ExxonMobile; Alejandro, the tech genius who bought Cazzu a new laptop; José, the consultant who always asks Anitta if the vibes feel right; Emmanuel, who’s occupation they’ve narrowed down to either drug dealer or musician._

_Eventually the conversation turns to family. Anitta asks about Cazzu’s grandma, and Cazzu shrugs. There’s nothing new to report. She’s not getting better, but she’s not getting worse, either._

_Anitta puts her hand on Cazzu’s arm, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. She’s lucky to have you.”_

_Cazzu is about to respond when they’re interrupted by a child running into the kitchen. She’s maybe six years old, and she looks like Anitta._

_“Mamãe!”_

_“Good morning, preciosa!” Anitta says, leaning down to kiss her. “This is Mommy’s friend, Julieta. Say hello!”_

_“Hi,” she says, muffled. She’s half-hiding behind Anitta’s chair, peeking around to steal glances at Cazzu._

_“Hello,” Cazzu says, grinning at her around Anitta. She smiles back, giggling, before hiding behind the chair again._

_“Can you tell Julieta your name?”_

_“Elvira!” she says proudly._

_“That’s a nice name,” Cazzu says. Anitta smiles at her._

_“I know,” Elvira says, and then she runs off._

_Anitta shakes her head, still smiling. “Brush your teeth,” she calls down the hallway. “And then come eat breakfast. We don’t want to be late for school!”_

_Cazzu checks the time. It’s almost seven._

_“Oh,” she says. “I should go.” She doesn’t make any move to leave._

_“I’ll take you home,” Anitta says. “We have to take Vivi to school, though. It won’t take long.”_

_“Okay,” Cazzu says, smiling._

_She sits in the front seat again as Anitta drives to the school, half-listening to Elvira chatter in the back about her classmates and her teacher. Any residual shyness from breakfast has been forgotten, and Elvira waves furiously to both of them when they drop her off. Anitta blows her kisses._

_“I love her so much,” Anitta says to Cazzu as they pull away. “I’d do anything for her.”_

_“You’re a good mom,” Cazzu says, smiling at her._

_Anitta laughs. “Motherhood makes you a special kind of stupid, but I’m doing my best.”_

_“Maybe that explains my mom,” Cazzu says, and Anitta tilts her head curiously at Cazzu. “She left me with my grandma,” Cazzu continues, “after her and my dad split up. She didn’t come back. I thought she was just taking a break.”_

_“Oh, baby.” Anitta leans over, grabbing Cazzu’s hand. Cazzu doesn’t look at her, staring at the road instead. But she strokes her thumb over Anitta’s._

_They drive in silence, heading back towards Cazzu’s house. “Thank you,” she says as they turn into her neighborhood. “For everything.”_

_“Don’t worry about it. Say hi to your grandma for me.”_

_Cazzu nods and then gets out. She walks over to her front door but doesn’t go inside. She looks back at Anitta’s SUV, and Anitta blows her kisses out the window before driving away. Cazzu finally goes inside._

_“You’re late,” her grandma says as she opens the door._

_“Yeah. I went to Anitta’s house. She says hi.”_

_“She’s a nice girl.”_

_Cazzu nods before excusing herself to her room. She collapses onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s a long time before she falls asleep._

―

Cazzu shifts on the sofa again, untucking her leg and putting it back on the floor. “I don’t know.” Cazzu shakes her head, not wanting to talk about what Anitta was or wasn’t. Maybe because she still doesn’t know. Finally, Cazzu says, “She was the one who introduced me to Benito. So maybe she was my enemy.” She laughs, and it sounds hollow. 

“Benito is Ema’s father, right?”

Cazzu rolls her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Anitta introduced you?”

“It wasn’t even a real introduction. We were at some party for rich assholes, and she told me to go say hi to him, and then I got pregnant.” Cazzu snorts.

“And when was this?”

“Before everything got, you know.”

Joy hums, not asking any more questions, only writing.

Cazzu sits, waiting, and suddenly she blurts out, “I don’t want this to be some, like, ‘all strippers are crazy bitches who rob you’ story.” Her tone is accusatory, even though that’s not really fair.

Joy looks up from her notes. “No,” she reassures Cazzu. “Of course not. But you know I have to ask about that.”

Cazzu sighs. “I did what I had to do,” she says, staring at her feet.

“Julieta,” Joy says, and her voice reminds Cazzu of her primary school teacher. She glances up to meet Joy’s eyes. “I’m not here to judge you. I just want the story.”

Cazzu looks away again, pulling her feet back onto the sofa. She wraps her arms around her knees, hugging them into herself. With her eyes closed, she starts talking.

“I stopped stripping when I had Ema. And I thought, I really thought I could make it work. Benito told me he would take care of me. But then we broke up, and then it was the, you know, the, when everything just stopped and everyone was broke.” Cazzu opens her eyes, gesturing with her hands.

“The recession,” Joy supplies. 

“Yeah, so, I had to get a job. And I went to, just, some store or whatever, because it can’t be that hard, right? To sell things? I sold a lot of beer. But the manager lady, she was such a bitch. She told me I didn’t have the experience, and I told her, how can I get the experience if you won’t let me work? And she just told me some bullshit, so I left, but then what was I supposed to do? Because I kicked Benito out, and he never gave us that much money anyway, but it was something.”

Cazzu moves her hands as she talks, gestures becoming more and more animated until one of her legs falls off the sofa by accident. Cazzu stares at her own leg, startled by its betrayal. She puts the other leg on the floor beside it and then sits on her hands.

Across from her, Joy only half hides her laugh. “So retail didn’t work out for you,” she says.

Cazzu shakes her head. “Nothing really worked out. I tried everything. It was so hard to get the jobs, and then they didn’t pay nothing, and I really had to take care of Ema and my grandma, so.” Cazzu trails off, shrugging. Somehow her hands have started moving again.

“Okay,” Joy says. “So what did you do?”

“I went back to the club. But everything was different.”

“How?”

“Everyone was gone. Anitta, Becky, Karol, everyone. The only person I knew was Ivy, and she tried to help me, she really did, but,” Cazzu pauses, fighting to keep her voice level. She breathes deeply before continuing, “It was real fucked up, Joy.”

Joy puts down her pen, brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“I didn’t know no one anymore. They were all these new people. Not just dancers, new customers, too. And it wasn’t the same. Because before we just danced, right? But then, I mean,” Cazzu pauses, blinking hard. “They were prostitutes. And that’s not, you know, okay, whatever, I’m not judging them. But the customers thought everyone would do that. And I didn’t want to.”

Joy watches Cazzu intently, not writing. Her arms are crossed over her middle, notebook balanced on her lap.

“I didn’t want to do that,” Cazzu continues, voice starting to tremble. “But I was really, really broke. So one time this guy brought me back to the champagne room, and I was just going to dance, but he starts taking off his pants. I told him no, but he kept begging me, and then he pulls out his wallet, and he shows me the money, right, and it’s a hundred, and he puts it on the couch. I kept saying no, and he kept putting the money there, so finally I did it. And when I was done and he was gone I looked at it, and it was sixty dollars. I don’t know how he did it, but―” Cazzu feels the tears running down her face. She inhales violently, trying to make them stop.

Joy sets her notebook down and walks around the table. She sits down carefully next to Cazzu.

“Hey,” she says, reaching out to rub her shoulder. 

Cazzu turns away, trying to hide her face. Joy takes her hand back.

Cazzu shakes her head, taking a deep breath and trying to pull herself together. Joy sits next to her in silence. Cazzu keeps her gaze downwards, watching out of the corner of her eye as Joy’s hand starts to reach out again before she stops herself. Cazzu takes another deep breath, then wipes at her eyes, blinking furiously. Joy glances around.

“I don’t have any tissues,” she says, sounding embarrassed that she doesn’t carry them on her at all times. “Do you want some water?”

Cazzu declines, trying not to feel indignant about being offered water in her own house. “No,” she says. “Let’s just keep going.”

“You sure?” Joy looks very unsure. “We can stop if you want.”

“Let’s just finish the story.”

Joy squeezes Cazzu’s shoulder before going back to her chair. She picks up her notebook and glances at what she’s written.

Cazzu starts talking before Joy can ask another question. “I couldn’t keep doing that. So, maybe Anitta heard my prayers,” she says, laughing bitterly. “Because that’s when she came back.”

―

  
  


_It’s a quarter past one in the morning, meaning it’s not Friday anymore. They left the empty club early. Cazzu, still in shock from showing up to work to find Anitta reappeared out of thin air,_ _had followed her out the door without question. They’d caught up over mugs of greasy coffee that Cazzu doesn’t remember ordering. It was like they’d never been apart. She showed Anitta pictures of Ema, and Anitta had fawned over her, saying how beautiful she is, how much she looks like her mom. And Cazzu had said yes, yes she is, but she’s getting too big to not have her own room, although there’s no space now that they had to move back to grandma’s house._

_“Baby,” Anitta says, reaching for Cazzu over the sticky table of the twenty-four-hour diner. “Let me help you.”_

_Cazzu raises an eyebrow, but she lets Anitta take her hands. Cazzu looks down at their fingers. Her nails aren’t done, but Anitta’s are. There’s a hangnail sticking out on the side of her thumb. Cazzu flicks at it with her finger. Anitta scowls at her, but the expression fades as she starts talking._

_“I’m serious,” she says, taking her hands back. “We’re gonna make so much money.”_

_“How?”_

_Anitta lays out her plan. They’re going to a bar to find men to bring back to the club, get them drunk and high, and run up their credit cards. Anitta has already cut a deal for a percentage of their tab._

_Cazzu glances at Anitta. She’s only half-listening, caught up in the magic of how Anitta talks, how she makes everything seem possible, easy._

_“So you got it?” Anitta asks._

_“I don’t know,” Cazzu says._

_“Don’t worry about it,” Anitta says. She looks Cazzu in the eye. “Sometimes you gotta take what you need.”_

_Cazzu shrugs._

_“Listen to me. Those guys don’t deserve what they have, baby. They stole it. All this bullshit?” Anitta gestures around her. “They ruined the country, and did any of them go to jail? No. They’re paying for their lapdances with stolen money!”_

_“I don’t care about politics,” Cazzu says. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”_

_“We’re not hurting anyone, I promise. They’ll have a hangover tomorrow and a little less money. They were gonna do this shit anyway. We’re just helping them along.”_

_“You promise?”_

_“I promise. I’ve done this before. It went fine every time. It’s just a little push in the right direction. Everyone wins.”_

_“Okay.”_

_They take Anitta’s Escalade. Cazzu looks at her in the front seat, still tiny as ever. She’s not feeling so nervous anymore. Excitement wins out, and when they arrive, she follows Anitta’s lead, arranging herself nicely at the bar. Anitta whispers a steady stream of advice in her ear about how to find the right target._

_“See his shoes?” Anitta asks her, and Cazzu nods. She looks at the man’s shoes. They look expensive. “Always look at the shoes. Anyone can own one nice suit. You gotta pay attention to the details, you know? Shoes. Watches. Briefcase. That’s how you know.”_

_“Okay,” Cazzu says, and she keeps looking at his shoes as Anitta walks over to him, whispers in his ear, and takes him by the arm back to Cazzu._

_“This is my girlfriend,” Anitta says._

_Cazzu smiles her best smile and touches Anitta’s lower back. The man’s eyes dart between the two of them, pleased. “Her thirsty girlfriend,” she says, leaning closer into Anitta but still smiling at him._

_The man laughs, too loudly and too quickly to be genuine, but he pulls out his wallet and buys them all drinks._

_“Extra strong,” Cazzu says loudly to the bartender. The man looks at her, and she winks._

_Cazzu and Anitta drink the first one, but the second they pour out when he’s not looking. By that time he’s leering down Cazzu’s shirt unsubtly._

_Cazzu puts a finger under his chin, dragging his face back up to her eyes. She leans in, ignoring the overwhelming smell of his cologne. “You wanna have some fun?”_

_He smiles, and not kindly. Cazzu offers him the coke, and he doesn’t hesitate before inhaling._

_“Let’s get out of here,” Anitta says. “I know this great place. We can have some more fun.”_

_He doesn’t even speak, just nods eagerly before settling the tab. They take him back to the strip club, and they’re barely in the door before Anitta convinces him to hand over his card again. She heads off in the direction of the DJ booth, Cazzu notices, but she comes back with drinks, a triple for him, soda and lime for them._

_They entertain him just long enough for him to finish his drink, and then they pawn him off on one of the new girls. He doesn’t even seem sad to see them go._

_By the time the club closes, they’ve brought six guys in. Cazzu’s wobbling a little; she started drinking the drinks again around the last two. But she straightens up when Anitta takes her to see DJ Sky, who hands her a wad of cash. Cazzu’s jaw almost drops, but she controls herself. It’s fifteen hundred dollars, nothing compared to what she used to make, but more cash than she’s seen in months. Cazzu jumps on Anitta, hugging onto her like a koala. She throws the money in the air, and Anitta spins her around. DJ Sky laughs at both of them, but she’s smiling too._

_“I told you, baby,” Anitta says into her ear. “We’re gonna make so much money.”_

―

_Suddenly, Cazzu finds herself with a new job: go to bars with Anitta and pick up men. It’s a lot more fun than stripping._

_Cazzu sits at bar after bar, pretending to be Anitta's girlfriend. Sometimes she flirts more with Anitta than with any of their marks. Most of the time, maybe. Anitta always plays along, never tells her to stop, but sometimes she changes up the story. Sometimes they’re friends. Sometimes they’re sisters_ ― _“with different dads,” Anitta always adds when the men start to doubt. Sometimes they’re colleagues, which isn’t even a lie. But no matter the cover story, they’re always together._

_Cazzu throws herself onto the sofa in Anitta’s living room, yelling “We did it! We fucking did it!” at the ceiling._

_She’s not drunk anymore, but she’s so high on the thrill of what they accomplished. They run twelve plays that night, and it never gets old. Even having to split with the club, Cazzu is making close to what she used to, before the economy shit the bed._

_Cazzu counts the cash, fanning it out on Anitta’s coffee table. She imagines herself as a videogame character, reupping her HP. Every bill is another status bar, and soon she’s maxed out. She grins, leaving the money on the table and yelling out again, for the sheer pleasure._

_“Shh,” Anitta says, climbing onto the sofa after her, heels still on. She snuggles into Cazzu’s side, reaching up to press her finger against Cazzu’s lips. “You’re going to wake Vi.”_

_“Sorry,” Cazzu says, giggling, blushing. She hugs Anitta tighter, feeling the sequins of her dress scratch against her skin. “But you’re a genius. You know that, right? You’re so fucking amazing! I can’t believe it works! I can’t believe_ ―”

_“Shh,” Anitta says again. “You’re yelling again.”_

_“Sorry, I’m_ ―”

_This time, she’s cut off by Anitta’s lips against hers. Cazzu opens her mouth, still trying to apologize, but Anitta is still kissing her. Her tongue touches Cazzu’s, and Cazzu shifts her position, pulls Anitta closer to kiss her properly. Her eyes are open, and so are Anitta’s. Cazzu watches Anitta’s reactions as they kiss, studies her face for clues as to what she likes and doesn’t like. Cazzu puts her hand on Anitta’s thigh, pushing at the fabric already riding up. She tries to slip her hand completely underneath her skirt, but the material is too tight._

_Anitta looks down at Cazzu’s hand, and she laughs._

_“What?” Cazzu asks._

_“Nothing,” Anitta says, and she stands up, turning around and lifting her hair up for Cazzu to undo her dress. Cazzu pulls the zipper down, slowly, uncertainly. The fabric stays mostly in place, too structured to flop open. Only a sliver of Anitta’s skin peeks through until Anitta grabs the bottom and heaves the whole thing off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. She doesn’t linger, doesn’t make a show of it._

_She turns back around, and, unrestrained by the fabric, straddles Cazzu, kissing her harder, sloppier. Cazzu’s hands wander over her stomach, her ribs, up her back to her bra. She unhooks it but doesn’t take it off, leaves it hanging over Anitta’s shoulders, waiting._

_Anitta looks down at her, puzzled. “You okay?”_

_“Yeah,” Cazzu says, shaking her head._

_“Yes or no?” Anitta asks._

_“I don’t want to fuck this up.”_

_“Fuck what up?”_

_“Uh,” Cazzu says ineloquently. “Um.”_

_She lets the silence hang between them, trying to articulate the risk she’s taking by crossing this line. How can you place a bet when the dealer holds your lifeline in one hand and your heart in the other?_

_When you have a full house, all hearts._

_“I missed you. I need you.”_

_Anitta looks at her, and Cazzu can’t read her expression, so Anitta uses her words instead. “You, too,” she says, and then she throws her bra and underwear on the floor with the rest of her clothes, and goes back to kissing Cazzu, stopping only to peel her dress off and add it to the growing pile._

_Anitta pushes her back onto the sofa and climbs on top of her. Cazzu is grateful for the way Anitta covers her, for the deliberate way she makes every move. Anitta kisses her mouth, her chin, her jawline. She buries her face in Cazzu’s neck, braces her forearms on either side as she grinds into Cazzu, body like the ocean, rolling over her in endless waves._

―

_The better they get at their job, the more changes they make._

_Anitta runs a brutal game. Cazzu tries to convince her that charging smaller amounts on known clients’ cards is safer, but Anitta insists they max out every time, and they quickly exhaust the men they met through the club, forcing them to start branching out into unknown territory._

_Anyone is fair game, not just Wall Street stooges. They run scams on medical salesmen, insurance agents, and once, an ex-professional swimmer who Cazzu talked to for hours. She didn’t believe him at first, even though he looked like an athlete with the haircut and the carefully maintained beard, the tattoos that ran down his arms and onto his hands. She remembered the rose most clearly. But finally he showed her pictures of him qualifying for the Olympics, and she laughed at how young he was. She felt genuinely sorry for him, later. But his credit limit was high, and she ran his card just like anyone else’s._

_Cazzu also realizes they can triple their earnings by cutting out the club, and Anitta does take her up on this idea. She talks DJ Sky into coming over to their operation, and now there are far fewer people with their hands in the cookie jar._

_Without the club, though, they don’t have a designated space to bring men. They’ve resorted to making house calls, meeting unvetted men in hotels or at their homes. That’s when Anitta suggests they outsource some of the workload. It’s surprisingly easy to find women who are willing to work with them. It’s surprisingly difficult to find professionals._

_They wind up with a motley crew of women. There’s Greeicy and Tini from the club. Anitta recruited them easily. Then Farina and Catalyna, who came from the Craigslist ad they put up. Cazzu wonders if they’ll all come in matching sets like that. She hopes not, considering that Anitta’s latest rescued stray is Lele._

_Lele is annoying, which wouldn’t be a problem except that she annoys the men, also. She talks constantly, and she’s not funny. But above all that is the fact that she’s not good at her job. For some reason, she’s incapable of getting men to pay for things on her own. She needs Anitta’s help all the time. Cazzu tells herself that she’s not jealous. Lele’s just inefficient and should be cut out._

_“We should fire her,” Cazzu says. She’s sitting on Anitta’s sofa, not really watching TV, mostly listening to Ema and Elvira play in the other room._

_“She’s getting better,” Anitta says, right next to her. “She did okay yesterday. Everyone needs a little help in the beginning.” Anitta gives Cazzu a pointed look._

_“I never left coke at the fucking bar,” Cazzu points out._

_Anitta sighs. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”_

_Cazzu raises her eyebrows._

_“I know someone else who does this. She doesn’t use coke.”_

_Cazzu frowns._

_“She uses something else.” Anitta gets off the sofa. Cazzu watches her walk over to her purse and take out a small vial. She hands it to Cazzu._

_“What is it?”_

_“It’s ketamine and molly.”_

_Cazzu’s eyebrows go up even higher._

_“I know, I know,” Anitta says. “But she says it works so much better. The molly makes them happy. The ketamine makes them forget.”_

_“That sounds dangerous.”_

_“She says it’s only a tiny pinch. Technically, it’s safer than cocaine.”_

_Cazzu opens her mouth to wonder if that’s actually true, but before she can voice her concerns, Ema and Elvira come running back into the room. Cazzu quickly slips the vial into her pocket._

_“Mami,” Ema says. “Vi says we’re sisters now! Is that true?”_

_Cazzu looks at Anitta, stunned and unsure how to answer._

_“Best friends are like sisters,” Anitta says, coming to the rescue. “Are you two best friends?”_

_Ema and Elvira nod enthusiastically, grinning at each other._

_“Well, there you go,” Anitta says, “Miss Vi, can you show Ema your iPad and let Mommy have some time with Julieta?”_

_Elvira says yes, loudly, and grabs Ema’s hand. They run off happily, giggling._

_“What are we doing?” Cazzu asks when they’re gone._

_“Providing for our family,” Anitta says, and she squeezes Cazzu’s hand._

_Cazzu sighs._

―

“Anitta’s friend was right,” Cazzu says. “It works way better than coke. But she didn’t tell us how to dose it.”

Joy winces.

―

_“What the fuck happened?” Cazzu asks._

_“I don’t know,” Tini says on the other end of the line. She’s hysterical. “Sebastián was fine, and then he just started acting so crazy! He tried to jump into the pool, but he missed, oh my God.”_

_Cazzu can’t make out the rest of what Tini is trying to say._

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Cazzu swears. “Oh my God, fuck!”_

_Greeicy comes on the line. “We tried to call Anitta, but she’s not picking up.”_

_“Just stay where you are,” Cazzu says furiously. “Don’t touch him. I’m on my way.”_

_She sees a man face down on the concrete next to the pool when she arrives. “Fuck, shit,” Cazzu says, running over to see if he’s still breathing. She can’t really tell._

_“We’re going to jail, oh my God, we’re going to jail,” Tini chants over and over. Greeicy is crying._

_“Both of you, shut up!” Cazzu says. She puts a finger under his jaw, and there’s a faint pulse._

_Greeicy slumps down onto a pool chair, head in her hands. Tini is pacing around her, still saying “oh my God, we’re going to jail.”_

_“He’s alive!” Cazzu yells. “Come help me get him in the car. And call Anitta again! Keep calling her.”_

_Greeicy looks up. “What?”_

_“He’s not dead. But we have to get him to the hospital. Fucking come help me!”_

_It takes all three of them to lift him into Cazzu’s car. He looks skinny, but his long legs weigh more than Cazzu was expecting. Still, they manage to stuff him into the back seat, still wearing his bathing suit._

_“Tini!” Cazzu barks. “In the back!”_

_“Why?” She looks horrified._

_“Because he was your mark. If he wakes up, at least he’ll recognize you.”_

_Tini does as Cazzu says. She also spends the whole car ride trying to get in touch with Anitta. Cazzu does the same, driving one-handed while texting. She only stops when she nearly swerves into the other lane._

_“Keep calling Anitta,” she orders Greeicy. “Don’t stop until you get her.”_

_Greeicy nods, but she doesn’t have any better luck._

_“She’s not answering,” Greeicy says in despair._

_Cazzu slams her hand against the steering wheel, and pushes the gas harder, as fast as she dares to go. They can’t draw suspicion, but every second they take to get to the hospital is another chance Sebastián might die, and then it’s all over._

_They stop at a red light, and Cazzu’s heart leaps up into her throat when she sees a police car behind her. This is it, she thinks. We really are going to jail. But the car turns onto another street once they get through the light._

_Cazzu pulls up to the hospital and turns around._

_“Help me get him out,” she says to Greeicy and Tini. Greeicy shakes her head no, unable to speak anymore. Cazzu rolls her eyes. “Come on, Tini.”_

_The two of them manage to get him of Cazzu’s back seat and onto the curb right outside the hospital. Cazzu turns to see a crew of paramedics coming out the door. “Help!” she yells. “Help, please help, someone come help my husband! Oh my God, help me please!”_

_Once the paramedics come to attend to him, Cazzu shoves Tini back into the car before driving away as fast as she possibly can._

_She leaves Tini and Greeicy back at Greeicy’s apartment before speeding off back home. It’s almost seven thirty in the morning. On her way there, she leaves Anitta an angry, incoherent voicemail, telling her not to bother to return her calls if she can’t be there when Cazzu needs her most._

_Cazzu pulls into her driveway and almost runs over her neighbor. She’s standing outside, holding Ema on her hip. In her other hand is Ema’s backpack, covered in rainbow unicorns._

_“Hey,” the neighbor says when Cazzu gets out of her car. “Your sitter brought Ema over last night when you didn’t come home. Don’t worry, we had a nice sleepover.”_

_Ema nods, and Cazzu takes a deep breath, trying to keep it together. “Thank you so much,” she says. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Come on, Ema. We gotta get you to school.”_

_“Don’t worry,” the neighbor says. “I can take her if you need me to.” She eyes Cazzu’s attire, her tiny skirt and her stained, ripped shirt._

_“I got it, thank you,” Cazzu says brusquely. She grabs Ema and her backpack and puts them both in the back seat._

_Ema chatters happily about her sleepover with the neighbor, and Cazzu does her best not to burst into tears. They arrive at the school, and Cazzu parks in the fire lane, taking Ema by the hand and leading her into the building._

_“Why are we walking so fast, Mamá?” Ema asks, barely able to keep up with Cazzu’s strides._

_“Come on, baby,” is all Cazzu says. She sees the other moms looking at her, still feels their eyes on her as they march past. It’s freezing outside, but Cazzu pretends she is impervious to the weather._

_They get to the door of the school, and Cazzu drops down to say goodbye to Ema. “I love you, baby.”_

_“I love you too!” Ema says before disappearing inside._

_Cazzu drives back home, mind blank, and she sits in her car in the driveway for a long time before going into the house. When she opens the door, the smell hits her like a wall. She almost gags, and then she drops down to the floor, gasping, even though that means she’s inhaling more of the dead air. She stays like that for who knows how long until she finally makes herself go over to examine the corpse sitting where her grandma always sat._

_She’s in her armchair, like always, head resting on the back. You’d think she was sleeping, if you were noseblind and stupid. Cazzu can’t bring herself to touch her. She can’t do anything but cry._

―

_Cazzu sobs through the whole funeral service. She can’t stop, even when Ema looks at her frightened and confused. She cries into Anitta’s lap, and when the service is over, she takes her up on her offer of spending the night. She can’t stand the thought of staying in her grandma’s house._

_Anitta makes her a cup of green tea. Cazzu holds it in her hands, feeling the ceramic burn her palms. She only puts it down when Anitta walks over and hugs her tight, kissing her head and whispering into her hair, “I’m so sorry, baby.”_

_Cazzu and Ema stay at Anitta’s for a week. Cazzu does nothing but lie on the couch in sweatpants and cry for the first three days, telling stories about her grandma. Anitta and Elvira listen more than Ema does._

_Ema has heard the stories already, about how her grandma used to take her to the bakery every morning when they lived in Argentina. Besides bread, Cazzu’s grandma always bought them medialunas and coffee, Cazzu’s coffee sweetened with more sugar than her pastry. When they moved to New York, Cazzu was the one who led her grandma to the bakery, trying to remember how to say “pan mignon” in English._

_Cazzu insists on telling the stories again, though. This time she adds another one, about how her grandma once danced with Juan Carlos Copes, when he and Maria were on a break._

_“Who’s that?” Ema asks, and Cazzu starts to cry again._

_On the fourth day, though, Cazzu decides it’s time to get her shit together._

_“Come on,” she says to Anitta. “Let’s go make some money.”_

_“You sure?” Anitta asks her. “There’s no rush.”_

_“I gotta do something. I can’t stay here anymore.”_

_“You can stay as long as you need to,” Anitta says._

_Cazzu feels her throat starting to choke up, her eyes starting to sting, but she pushes her feelings down. “You know what I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes to cover up the tears threatening to fall. “Call fucking Lele if you have to. Let’s go.” She stands up, walking over to Anitta’s closet. She opens the door and considers Anitta’s wardrobe._

_Anitta is quiet for a moment before saying, “I fired Lele. That’s what I was doing that night when you went to the hospital.”_

_Cazzu turns around, looking sharply at Anitta. “What?”_

_“She got arrested,” Anitta sighs. “So I bailed her out of jail, but I told her that was it. She’s out.”_

_“Oh,” Cazzu says. “Thanks?”_

_“You were right,” is all Anitta says._

―

“So I guess that’s why Lele sold us out,” Cazzu says. “I don’t blame her. Maybe I would have done the same thing.”

Joy raises an eyebrow.

“No, no I wouldn’t have been a snitch. But I understand being hurt. I understand wanting revenge.”

―

_“I’m sorry, Eladio.”_

_“I don’t understand what’s going on. Please just give the money back. I need it. I’m not rich. I don’t swim anymore.”_

_“I’m really sorry,” Cazzu says. Anitta looks up at her, eyes narrowing._

_“Please,” Eladio says. “You maxed out my company card, and I got fired. I have bills. Please, I’m gonna get evicted.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Cazzu says again._

_“I don’t know what I did to you. Can you just put the money back?”_

_“It wasn’t personal. It was just,” Cazzu pauses. “It was just what we do. That’s how this goes. You got scammed. I’m sorry.”_

_“Cut the fucking call right now,” Anitta says. She walks over to Cazzu, trying to take the phone from her._

_On the phone, Eladio keeps asking what he did, what happened, and Cazzu keeps trying to apologize._

_Anitta snatches Cazzu’s wrist, bending it back and forcing her to drop the phone. Anitta stabs the end call button, then drops the phone and kicks it away in disgust. “Don’t ever do that again,” she says._

―

“There was a sting,” Joy says, stating facts. 

“Yeah,” Cazzu scoffs. “Fucking cops finally did their jobs. It was a whole operation, more than just Lele. Someone recorded us.”

“Anitta said―”

Cazzu cuts her off before she can finish. “You talked to her?”

“Yeah,” Joy says. “Why?”

“Oh.”

―

_“That car is following us,” Cazzu says, turning around in the passenger’s seat, trying to see behind them._

_“You’re being paranoid.”_

_“It’s the same Buick that was at the bar.”_

_“That’s not a Buick,” Anitta says when the car passes them._

_“Whatever. It’s following us.”_

_“Calm down,” Anitta says. “Are you sure you want to go back to work so soon? Can you handle this?”_

_“I’m fine,” Cazzu insists. She doesn’t talk the rest of the way to the client’s hotel room, though._

_Something feels off when they arrive. Cazzu can’t put her finger on it, but she has a bad feeling the moment they step through the door._

_The client is waiting for them in a suit. He looks like he came right from the office. His tie is taut against his neck, and his briefcase is leaning against the legs of the sofa where he sits. Cazzu looks at his socks, visible where his pants ride up. They’re white, the kind you can buy in a pack of ten for five dollars._

_“I don’t like this,” she whispers to Anitta as the step inside._

_“Go back home, then.”_

_Cazzu bites the inside of her lip._

_“Hi,” Anitta says to the client. “You look lonely over there.”_

_“Yeah,” he says awkwardly. “I am.”_

_“The party’s here now, baby.” She perches on his lap, draping an arm around his shoulder and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smiles hesitantly._

_“There’s drinks in the minibar,” he says. “If you’re thirsty.”_

_“I am,” Anitta trills. “Camila, baby, can you make us something to drink?”_

_Cazzu does as she’s told, mixing one cocktail for Anitta and herself, and another one entirely for the client. She brings the drinks over with a smile, hoping it’s not too forced._

_“Thanks, Camila,” the client says. They clink their glasses together, and Cazzu watches nervously as he takes his first sip._

―

_“Julieta Cazzuchelli,” the voice yells over the megaphone. “We have a warrant for your arrest.”_

_Cazzu walks out of her house with her hands in the air. The only thing she looks at is her neighbor, who has come out to see what’s going on. Cazzu mouths “please” at her, and her neighbor nods._

_Cazzu twists her head as the police officer’s tries to push it down into the car, turning to look and make sure her neighbor has Ema. That’s the last thing she remembers clearly. The rest is a blur of being booked into the police station with the others. They’re all there when Cazzu arrives, all in the same cell. It almost looks like a staff meeting._

_Anitta is lecturing them on solidarity. They have to get their stories straight; they have to be on the same page. Cazzu nods and cries with the rest of them. Then they call her name and take her into questioning. Anitta squeezes her hand._

_The police are worse than any client she’s had, threatening, insulting, humiliating. Cazzu tries to block it all out, staring at the space in front of her, refusing to make eye contact. She pulls her hood down as far as it will go over her eyes. An officer shoves it roughly off._

_“Are you stupid?” he asks her, face so close she can smell the remains of his lunch. Cazzu turns her head away. “You gonna take the fall for these girls? You think they care about you? Newsflash, they don’t give a shit about you. They gonna take care of your kid? No, she’s gonna grow up without a mom. Become another little hoe, just like you. Grow up. Take care of your fucking family.”_

_Cazzu turns her head back to face him, only a few centimeters, but just like that, it’s over._

_The next thing she knows, she’s free. She’s outside the station, and Anitta is yelling at her, and crying, and hugging her so tightly._

_“How could you?!” she screams at Cazzu. Her eyes are wild, and she never looks away. “How could you take the deal? Did I not teach you nothing?”_

_“I’m sorry!” Cazzu yells back, and then her voice leaves her. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Why the fuck would you do that?”_

_“For Ema,” Cazzu says, barely audible, but Anitta hears her._

_“Motherhood makes you a special kind of stupid,” she says, and she hugs Cazzu fiercely, so hard that Cazzu doesn’t know if she means to comfort her or crush her. But she hugs back._

―

“Thank you, Julieta,” Joy says. “Thank you for telling me your story.”

Cazzu shrugs.

Joy starts to pack up her things, and Cazzu stops her. “What did Anitta say,” she asks. “When you talked to her?”

Joy pauses, considering Cazzu. “She talked about you a lot, actually. She told me how hard it was, moving here from another country. And how it got harder when your mom left. She said how she wishes you two had met sooner, how maybe you could have looked out for each other back then.”

Cazzu doesn’t know what to say. Joy stands up, ready to leave. She walks over and hugs Cazzu, who hugs her back on instinct.

“Take care of yourself,” Joy says. Before she leaves, she turns around and adds, “You should call Anitta. I think she’d like to hear from you. ”

―

“Hello?”

“Larissa?”

“Julieta.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Come over, and bring Ema. Elvira and I miss you.”

**Author's Note:**

> 99% inspired by [this photo. ](https://www.instagram.com/p/B414_bCnD7G/?igshid=envb56p1xr1a)
> 
> Anitta’s fictional child is named after her dog, Elvira. Cazzu’s fictional child was also supposed to be named after her pets, but one of her cats is named Mü, which I couldn’t for the life of me work into a human name, and the other cat is _also_ named Elvira, so Ema’s name comes from Cazzu’s clothing line, Niñx Emo.
> 
> Many thanks to RJ for editing and being wonderful in general.


End file.
